John Hunter: Lies
by Kaekoa
Summary: The flames flickered in the small ranch styled home. Police sirens, ambulances, and fire trucks could be heard blaring in the distance. A lone figure was inside wearing the floorboard out pacing,desperately trying to think of a way out.The door blocked by the flames licking at the dry wood, Smoke seeping through the floorboards and walls.
1. House Fire

_**Disclaimer: I own this story.** _

**Has nothing to do with Alex Rider, just a little story I made, and decided I liked.**

**Chapter 1**

The flames flickered in the small ranch styled home. Police sirens, ambulances, and fire trucks could be heard wailing in the distance. A lone figure was inside, wearing the floorboard out pacing, desperately trying to think of a way out. The door blocked by the flames licking at the dry wood. Smoke was seeping through the floorboards and cracks in the door. Abruptly, he stopped pacing suddenly, one thought racing through his mind.

_The window_

Quickly, he reached the window and opened it. Surveying his surroundings for anything to climb onto or grab, he saw the ledge outside his window and the neighbor's windowsill a few feet away. He did his best to not look down, knowing if he did then he would just jumble his nerves more.

He climbed onto the ledge and after a moment's pause, jumped. He was suspended in the air, free-falling, and for a second a horrible thought came to mind.

_I missed._

Then he felt his fingers close around something. He just barely gripped onto the ledge, anymore to the right or lower and he would have fallen. Below him, he heard shouting. He could guess that they were pointing at him also.

He made it, now how to get down. He looked around and noticed nothing of use around him, so he made the mistake of looking down. He froze in fear. The drop was still steep, only shortened by about a foot compared to his window. His fingers were starting to lose their grip on the ledge and he was slipping.

"Hey, kid!" a voice yelled out clearly through the loud exclamations and shouting of the neighbors and policemen, "Don't Let go yet, we almost got you!"

He thought for a second before looking around again. There were two firemen riding a lift up to him. When they reached him one of them reached out and grabbed his waist and pulled him inside the lift as the other one stood and watched.

"You alright kid?"

"Yeah, just a bit shaken up."

"OK, were going to have them check you over just in case," replied the man that lifted him, pointing at an ambulance parked on the street. When they reached it he noticed that his clothing was singed from the fire, and his right hand was pretty scratched. Other than that he was just fine, he could just ask his mom and dad for new clothes when they work everything out. Speaking of his parents, where were they?

"Where are my parents?" he voiced his question to the man that was wrapping his hand in a light gauze.

"Um… look kid, their checking the building out right now, as of now we have yet to find anyone but you. I'll be back in a bit, okay?" he questioned when he finished patching up his hand

"Okay," he replied with a shaky breath, a voice in his head was saying they didn't make it, yet the naive one saying they somehow did, that they were his parents and were immune to death. They couldn't die, they just couldn't. He felt tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. No! He wouldn't cry. They must have still been alive. When they crashed the car coming home from a business trip they survived. If they could survive that then they could get out of the fire. Then a thought came to him, what if they didn't survive. He felt guilty remembering himself telling his father that he hated him, that he was the worst dad in the world. He thought back to the conversation they had.

He remembered every word he said, and he regretted them now. Then he noticed what looked like a police officer walking toward him. As he got closer, he saw he was wearing a FBI vest. Why would the FBI be here? Then a thought occurred to him. What started the fire? Or if it was this serious for the FBI to be here, who?

"Hello, I am Special Agent Jake Grant from the FBI, you can call me Jake." The man told him, showing his badge to him and holding out his hand. He had a faint hint of an Italian accent in his tone, and a naturally tan skin tone, so he figured he was part Italian, if not fully.

"I'm Stunt-double John Hunter, the kid that jumped from a two story window. Call me John." He replied cheekily, shaking the man's hand firmly, and earning a small smile for his joke. The agent seemed nice enough, his smile genuine but a little sad. He fell silent at the possible reasons.

"I was wondering if you could talk?" he asked

"I'm pretty sure that I can speak, matter of fact, I believe I am right now." He replied sarcastically, wondering what this was about. Nonetheless, he followed him. The agent led him over to the sidewalk across the street and they sat on the curb in an uncomfortable silence. After a minute or two Grant sighed and got straight to the point.

"We found that the fire was started with matches, both the front and back sniped before the fire. The fire was probably meant to destroy any possible evidence. You have my condolences." He said sincerely and paused for another few moments for him to take it all in.

"I agreed to take you in for a little bit while we work on the case. Since this was an attempt caused by an unknown source, we have to have you protected, and seeing as you're a minor you need a temporary guardian." He paused letting him absorb the information so far.

"To be honest John, I like you. You have a great since of sarcasm. You have a load of confidence too, and by that little stunt of yours, you're brave. I think that you're going to have a great future ahead of you."

"Thanks." He said quietly taking a shaky breath. He was still trying to comprehend what had happened to his parents. Why would somebody want to kill his parents?

"I have a few questions for you if you don't mind." He said with an encouraging smile.

"No, I don't mind."

"Okay, well to start out, do you know what your parent's jobs were?"

"No." He replied shortly. How could he not know what their jobs were when he lived with them? Dang, he felt stupid now.

"Okay, then can you tell me if there were any visitors, or suspicious people that came over?"

"Um, the only weird person that ever visited was Austin. Now that I think about he was the only one who came over to our place."

"Can you tell me who Austin is?"

"Oh sorry, just friend from school."

"Okay, nothing suspicious ever happen 'round here? Any people you think looked a bit out of place?" he asked.

"No."

"Did you see anybody outside before the fire?"

"No."

"Okay then, do you have any other family that we could contact?"

"Sorry, no." He said, shrugging his shoulders. He was the only heir left to his bloodline. What if they went after him now? Would he run or hide? Or would he fight? More importantly, could he fight?

"Okay, well let's go to headquarters, I still have to work and have to act as your personal bodyguard." Briggs joked lightly, steering him towards a car that was across the road from the scene. He saw a few people walking by, mostly neighbors and some people that he hadn't seen more than once or twice. His thoughts drifted back to the agent taking him in.

He liked Jake. He didn't call him a kid, or treat him like one. He treated him like a person your own age. He acted calm and collected around him. Not nervous or fidgety. He looked like a leader. He acted nice around everybody, but when things got severe, he got serious.

* * *

Constructive Criticism is Welcome!

Message me, if you have any suggestions, please review.

This is my first try at writing, so please keep any flames smothered at least a bit.(Cheesy Pun Intended :P )


	2. Exploding Cars and Spilled Coffee

**Chapter** **2**

When he saw the car he couldn't help but let out a low appreciative whistle. It was a Dodge Viper, year 2010. The car had a newer looking red paint job with two dazzling white stripes going straight down the middle.

"A beauty, isn't she?" The agent asked.

"A dream," he replied, eyes full of passion for the car.

As he got into the passenger seat he had a nagging feeling in the back of his head, something wasn't right. He strained his ears for any irregular sounds as the engine, and was rewarded by a faint tick from near the engine. His eyes widened with realization, there was a bomb planted in the car. The more he listened to it, the more distinguishable it became. He had to get out of the car. The ticking had started to get faster and he knew he had about a minute or two before it exploded. So he decided to go for the simple way of explaining.

Before Agent Grant had time to start the engine he yelled, "THERE'S A BOMB IN THE CAR!"

Apparently he had startled the agent enough to understand what he had said. They flung opened the doors, and dived out of the vehicle, throwing themselves to the ground with hands over their heads. A few seconds later, they heard a loud explosion from behind them. He felt a sharp sting in his right arm, and briefly figured that the glass had cut him. He tried to make a move to get up but cried out as pain shot through his ankle and up his leg. After a few seconds of the pain in his ankle he fell unconscious.

Grant slowly lifted himself off of the ground, dusting his clothing off and coughing lightly from the fumes. He turned to see the car blown to bits, and John lying on the ground, unmoving. He could see bits of glass in his arm, but his ankle was bloody, and looked to have a medium sized piece of metal in it. It was probably broken, but it still looked to be fixable. Quickly, he called for some paramedics and followed them after they slid him onto a stretcher and headed to the ambulance. Taking a quick look back at the car, which by now was crawling with people, it looked terrible.

There wasn't much left of it. The doors had broken off completely, the hood had been blown upward and was almost entirely shredded, the tires had been blown to charred bits, and the engine had exploded. All of the windows had been broken. The fire department had hosed it down but the whole car was still smoking. Basically, the car just looked like shit. No, correction, It was a charred piece of shit.

"Great", he mumbled to himself, and adding as an afterthought "hope my insurance would cover exploding cars."

As he followed his charge into the ambulance he thought, got a reason to get out of my paperwork now at least. He allowed himself a small smirk until he heard his boss yell out. "I still want you to finish you're paperwork when you come back Jake."

"How could you still joke when I was nearly blown to bits." He called back.

"When I'm not joking" his boss deadpanned.

"You got it boss."

* * *

When he awoke the first time, his first thought was, _"Damn, my head hurts." _He felt as if he had been run over by an elephant. His whole lower leg felt numb, so he guessed he was in a hospital. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open, squinting to adjust to the light. Gradually, he was able to peel them completely apart, and blinked owlishly into the light.

He quickly scanned the room, noting the possible entrances and exits, or escape routes. Just in case he was attacked and needed a quick way out. That was what his dad had taught him.

He heard a low chuckle behind him and jumped out of the hospital bed, spinning 360 degrees and dropped into a fighting stance, and immediately regretted it as his body buckled underneath him and cried out as he painfully hit the floor. Just as he fell he caught sight of the familiar green eyes. He heard the agent scramble up, and call for help just before he blissfully fell into unconsciousness.

When Grant saw how John adopted a perfect fighting stance when he heard him chuckle from behind him, he couldn't help but wonder just who he was taking in. He decided he would ask about it later, and called for help as his charge lost consciousness.

He couldn't help but think what he had just gotten himself into, offering to be a temporary guardian to a teenager. He had no clue what he would do if his charge got into trouble, or if he was in his rebellious stage. But he knew he would find out when they were in a regular routine, or somewhat of one. Everybody knew that routines get people killed, especially federal agents. He hoped that the kid wouldn't be too much trouble for him. He was only twenty-three and he would prefer his brown hair to grey. He would ask the kid some more questions when he was well enough leave the hospital tomorrow. He didn't want to call it home, because he knew his ward probably wouldn't think about it as his home. Should he see if John wanted to see a shrink? He should probably discuss that with him when they get to the house.

The second time he awoke went a little bit better than before, at least it did for him. When he opened his eyes and saw Jake sitting at the foot of his bed, reading the newspaper, and drinking coffee, a wolfish smile crept onto his face. He was going to get his payback for scaring him. _Revenge is best served sweet. _He quickly pretended to fall back asleep when he looked over to him and waited a few minutes.

Silently, he slithered out of his bed and onto the floor against the back wall, his fingers gripping the remote that adjusted the bed and when completely down, IV still stuck in his arm, he pressed on the up button for his feet. The sight was comical.

Jake didn't notice what had happened for the first few seconds until he tilted backwards a little too much. His arms flew upwards to balance himself, and he dropped everything he was holding. The newspaper fell onto the floor, and the scolding hot coffee spilled on his lap, burning his legs and chest. When the coffee spilled, his hands flew down, and he toppled off the hospital bed, landing on the newspaper.

As John watched this, he couldn't help but laugh. The sight was hilarious. He had only expected him to spill his coffee in a rush to fix the bed. He had even halfway suspected nothing to happen at all. Like he had said earlier, _Revenge is best served sweet, like coffee._

He stopped laughing when he saw the angry FBI agent advancing on him. Oh no, this didn't look too good for him. He had just made an FBI agent, which happened to be his guardian, angry. He was so dead.

* * *

Okay, I added the full chapter now.

Please Review, I want to know if this is any good?


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